


help me to forget

by sansapotter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansapotter/pseuds/sansapotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hoped he only saw her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	help me to forget

It started as a comfort, her trips to the forge. Winterfell was empty, hauntingly so. Her family was a memory to the walls just like the Starks of old, when she walked the halls she felt as much a ghost as the rest of them. Sansa was the Stark in Winterfell, she met with advisors, kept a clumsy but accurate ledger, and heard petitions. She spent most of her days surrounded by others, but yet she felt so alone.

Gendry hadn’t come for her, she wouldn’t fool herself into thinking so. Still she offered him a place to stay, and let him make use of WInterfell’s forge, their smith had gone to help on the Wall and they’d been without since. He spoke of Arya, the girl he once knew, in the hall where she offered him wine and a meager ration of food. It was enough. When she looked at him she knew he was like her.

The visits were innocent at first, she liked the warmth of the hearth, and his quiet presence. She liked how easy he made the work look, lifting the heavy hammer and striking, shaping the metal into something true. Soon after she started to notice the way sweat rolled in beads down his back, the heat in his gaze when she stood close to admire his work. 

Not long after she became familiar with his roughened hands, on her face, in her hair, touching her, stroking her, drawing gasps, coaxing sounds from her, sounds most unbecoming of her status, but gods she never wanted it to stop. He tipped his head back when she echoed his movements, so she could watch the bob of his throat; she tested the weight of him, moving her hand slowly, not to tease but to learn.

Then there was after, where she would feel the rumble of his chest as he spoke, stories of Westeros. He never asked anything in return, and perhaps that’s why she offered her own, his arm tightened around her shoulder when she said her piece. Protective, not possessing. 

The days grew easier, this was a secret that wouldn’t eat away at her. A secret worth keeping. Listening to the lords was bearable, she could pretend their demands were plausible though winter was upon them and all they should want was to see spring once more.

He was never surprised when she arrived, though he never turned from his work to greet her, she could tell from the tensing of his muscles that he was aware, and then their dance would begin again, though instead of hovering beside him she leaned close, against him when she admired the blade, his hands traced over her own following the line of the sword.

With a turn of her head she caught his mouth with hers, hot and needy, bruising in its attempt to close the distance between them. When he fell against the straw bed he pulled her with him, rucking her skirts to her waist and tugging her small clothes aside. 

She never thought this would be her favorite part, but it was the closeness, the feeling of his neck against her cheek, the low heady groan he gave when she bit into the skin there to keep herself from crying out too loud. Maybe it was the feeling of his hands tugging the neckline of her dress so low, mouthing at her breasts in an achingly familiar way; the way he eased her hips into a slow drag over his own. 

“That’s it,” he would croon, when her breath started to come in staccato gasps. And gods be good, she never wanted to leave that moment, the knowledge that when he looked at her he saw Sansa, not a replacement. She never wanted to go back to a time where she felt so alone, and though she would never marry she would have him as long as he stayed.

It started as a comfort, how did it go so far?

**Author's Note:**

> florence + the machine- which witch is responsible for the title.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.sansapotter.tumblr.com)


End file.
